Growth
by Katheryn Mae
Summary: "Love starts with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a tear." -Anon. - The Huddy relationship in three different lights. Angst. Huddy.


**AN: Sorry I haven't written in ages, but I was hit with a major case of writer's block, then I wrote a Huli fic for NaNoWriMo, plus my RL is stupid (-cough- parents -cough-) so I'm going insane and stuff. And yeah, I mean like, really insane, so excuse my lack of fanfic posts.**

**Also, I wrote the first part before _Known Unknowns_ so that's why the timeline is diffeent. o.o**

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**Growth**

_Love starts with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a tear._

_University of Michigan library, 1989_

Gregory House

The first time I met her was in the library on campus, she was browsing through some books about diagnostics and had two already in her arms. I was looking through the books on a shelf above her, and she ducked under me, grabbing a book from under my arm. Clearing my throat, I pinned her against the shelf, grabbed the book out of her hand and looked down at her.

"Can I have my book back?" She sounded annoyed, and her eyes were narrowed, but I could still see the grayish blue flecks in them.

"When you learn to say 'excuse me,' before ducking under someone's arm then you can."

"Just give me the damn book," she snapped, stretching up on her toes and reaching for the book.

"Fine," I handed it to her reluctantly, and turned away, a diagnostics book in my hand.

"Hey," she caught my arm, "You're studying diagnostics? Can I bounce some questions off you? My endocrinology professor wants us to write a three page paper on another section of medicine that interests us."

"Whatever," I followed her to a small table in the corner, where she was apparently working. "You're studying endocrinology? No wonder," I eyed her figure and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Sorry, off limits," she smirked, sitting down and I sat down besides her, and slid my chair closer, "Undergrads are probably out of your range."

"You're an undergrad?" I was surprised at this, "You look much older, junior maybe." She blushed and stuck out her hand.

"Thanks, I'm Lisa Cuddy," I took it.

"Greg House, nice to meet you."

_Lisa Cuddy's House, 2008_

Lisa Cuddy

House drove away soon after, but I opened the door, watching him drive away, gazing longingly after his motorcycle. I hugged myself and leaned against the doorway, wishing I knew why he had just left, and why he had kissed me beforehand. After a few minutes, I closed the door, only to hear the sound of a motorcycle grow louder. Opening the door, I watched as House pulled back into my driveway and sat there.

He looked at me, but didn't get off his bike, and sadly, I closed the door, touching my lips gently with two fingers. Leaning against the back of the door, I heard his motorcycle start up again as he drove down the street. Turning to look out the window, I swallowed painfully, knowing that he wasn't going to come back, he wouldn't want to, nor would I call him and beg him to come back and tell me why.

That was the way he worked, and I knew it from the beginning, he was always searching for someone's vulnerability then he'd try and break down their walls to take advantage of their emotions. And hell, it was like a game to him, but it worked, for better or worse; all the feelings that I was trying to keep buried were coming back to the surface. For a second, I shook my head, wondering if I had merely imagined the whole ordeal, even though I knew it was pointless.

My feelings were coming back, and this time, I knew that they would be harder to hide than they had been twenty years ago in a med. school classroom.

_Princeton Cemetery, 20?_

James Wilson

There was no mistaking the shadowy figure in the dark, rainy evening, and from my place under the only oak tree on the grounds, I watched quietly as she scattered the rose petals by the marble stone. Even from my distance, I could read the empty expression in her eyes, and knew that the bags under her eyes weren't just figments of my imagination. It had already been two years, and every day, the despair I knew she kept inside only chewed her apart from the inside out.

"Lisa," I crossed the wet grass, making it clear that I was also willing to leave her alone if she wanted me to, and I rested my hand on her shoulder. Gazing down at the shredded petals in her hands, I could only assume that the sadness and anger was tearing her apart inside, "He's okay."

"Nn … no," her voice shook as she spoke, and even I had never heard her this distraught before, "He's not okay." She turned her gaze on me, her gray eyes staring into mine, and only then did I truly realize just how much my best friend lived in them. "He … he left. He left me." Her gaze went to the etching on the marble tombstone, "It's not fair."

"I know it's not," I whispered softly, knowing that my comfort, no matter how hard I tried, would never ease her pain. Pausing, I pried open her hands, forcing the petals onto the ground, watching them scatter across the wet grass and headstone. "It never will get easier Lisa, and all you can do is keep living," I reached into my own jacket pocket, fingering a faded photograph, but I didn't pull it out, and instead, I only stuffed it deeper into the pocket. "He wouldn't want you to be stuck living in memories, especially now that Rachel is growing up – he knows you're going to miss him, but that doesn't mean you need to live in the past."

"I know," Lisa Cuddy shook Wilson's hand off her shoulders and swallowed, teas glistening in her already blood-shot eyes. She reached into her own pocket, fingering the cold metal band she kept tucked in the pocket of her jacket that was closest to her heart, and she managed a weak smile, before dropping to her knees in front of the marble tombstone. Resting her hands on the cold, wet surface, she leaned forwards, letting her tears roll down her cheeks as quiet sobs shook her body.

"I love you," Cuddy whispered through her tears, and the cold raindrops mixed with the salty teardrops. She didn't bother to dry her eyes after she composed herself, and she looked, surprised to still see Wilson standing besides her. Turning, she strode quickly from the cemetery, not daring to make any sort of contact with her former lover's best friend.

"She misses you," Wilson said aloud to the empty air, "Every day House, and I'm sorry you have to let her suffer alone when this wasn't your fault." He pulled out the faded photograph again, and dropped it among the flowers, before following the faded pathway that Cuddy had taken.


End file.
